


Me + You = ❤️

by Athina_Blaine



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Pining, Tutoring, who hasn't failed a math test daydreaming about jonathan sims?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:47:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25668436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Athina_Blaine/pseuds/Athina_Blaine
Summary: “Didn’t you hire a tutor to help you out with this stuff? Whatever it is they’re charging you, I gotta say, it’s too much.”“No, it’s— He’s amazing, okay? He’s got to be one of the smartest people I’ve ever met, but not in like, you know, a braggy kind of way? Like, he’s reserved, but that’s because he’s just caught in his own head so often and—”“And you plan on getting a little cottage in the countryside together."-Martin’s hired a new tutor and still managed to fail his maths test. He really needed to pull himself together.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 52
Kudos: 361





	Me + You = ❤️

Martin had failed his Introduction to Precalculus and Trigonometry test and that was  _ bad _ .

Not to say that Martin wasn’t used to failing the occasional test. But, this time, Martin had been  _ proactive _ . He’d taken  _ preventative measures  _ in order to pass; but what did he do when those  _ preventative measures _ were the root of his problems in the first place?

What was he going to tell Jon? He’d been so  _ sure _ that Martin was going to pass. Guilt wriggled in his stomach and he buried his face into his pillow.

Can’t face the disappointment of your maths tutor if you suffocate yourself first.

The door to his dormitory opened and he groaned.

“Afternoon, beautiful,” said Tim, clapping Martin on the shoulder as he settled down on his own desk chair.

“Hey.”

Tim sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth and Martin squeezed his eyes shut. He’d left the test on top of his laptop, hadn’t he?

“That is a very angry shade of red pen, right there. Didn’t you hire a tutor to help you out with this stuff? Whatever it is they’re charging you, I gotta say, it’s too much.”

“No, it’s— He’s amazing, okay? He’s got to be one of the smartest people I’ve ever met, but not in like, you know, a braggy kind of way? Like, he’s reserved, but that’s because he’s just caught in his own head so often and—”

“And you plan on getting a little cottage in the countryside together." Tim's smile was as smarmy as ever. “I knew someone was making you all fluttery lately. Didn’t think it would be the guy you were paying to save your GPA.”

Martin flipped onto his back, throwing his pillow over his face.

Yes, he was well aware he was a  _ complete  _ idiot. Okay, but, look, Tim would understand if he took a tutoring lesson with Jon, too. He just had this way of talking, you know? He was so intense and focused, like whatever it was he was talking about really  _ mattered _ . Like he  _ cared _ .

And when that focus was on you? Martin never stood a chance.

It didn’t help that he was absolutely,  _ utterly  _ gorgeous.

“Oy." Tim snapped his fingers. "Stay with me"

Martin tossed the pillow away, rubbing his eyes.

“I kept trying to remember how he explained the problems to me, and then the test was just … over.”

“Well, either you tell him you want to get married and that you’ve already decided that I’m going to be your best man, or you’re gonna have to let him go. You can kiss a passing grade goodbye, otherwise.”

That was going to be the worst conversation Martin’s ever had. ‘Hello, Jon, you’re fired, because I’m a moron who keeps getting distracted by our hands touching over the textbook’.

But maybe they could still be friends?

Oh, who was he  _ kidding? _ That was optimistic, even for Martin. Jon would have no reason to talk to him again after this. They didn’t run the same social circles, and besides, Jon was beautiful and smart and funny and  _ completely _ out of Martin’s league, to a degree that embarrassed him for even considering the league at all. Martin couldn’t even pass his  _ introductory maths class. _

Jon had wanted to meet at their usual café after the test, see where he’s improved and what still needed work. If Martin had any conscience at all, he’d tell Jon there. Not  _ tell  _ tell Jon; Martin would rather throw himself in front of a bus than suffer that inevitable rejection head-on. But tell him  _ something _ . Like he was dropping the course, or he couldn’t afford a tutor anymore, things like that.

Taking a slow breath, Martin rolled out of bed. That was most likely it for his ‘sulking in pants’ quota for the week. He could try to break his previous record if he liked (he was certainly in the mood for it), but it was probably best to get things over with.

“Good luck, tiger,” said Tim as Martin dressed himself. “Give him a kiss from your favourite roommate, eh?”

“Sure.” Pausing at the mirror, Martin frowned. “How’s my hair?”

“Perfect. Really screams 'You're fired’.”

Martin was going more for ‘I like you  _ so _ much  _ please _ don’t hate me after this’, and he sighed.

Time to budge up.

Even after preparing and practicing the little speech he had written on his phone, he still couldn’t swallow back the tight knot of anxiety as Jon walked into the café. Martin had taken the seat facing the door just so Jon couldn’t take him by surprise. His fragile constitution couldn’t handle it.

Jon waved at him and Martin tried smiling back, and he  _ thinks _ it looked normal. Impossible to say for certain. His speech notes flashed under his eyelids every time he blinked.  _ Hello, Jon, there’s something important I need to talk to you about … Hi, Jon, um, I need to talk to you about … uh … _

“Hello,” said Jon, taking a seat. After flagging down the waitress and ordering a hot americano, he turned to Martin. “So, how did you do? Can I see your test?”

“I, um, didn’t bring it,” Martin said, trying very hard not to squirm in his seat. Jon looked so excited, too, but the excitement melted into confusion.

“Why not? I did mention I wanted to go over it today, didn’t I?”

“No, you did. You did say that. It’s just that I, uh … Well, the reason I didn’t bring it today was because I …” Pressing his fingertips together, Martin took a deep breath. “I ... failed it.”

“ _ What? _ ”

Martin flinched, and Jon’s face coloured at his own volume. Lowering his voice, he leaned closer, eyes blazing.

“What  _ happened? _ You did so well on the practice exam."

“I know, I know, I guess I just …”  _ couldn’t stop thinking about that one time you talked about math being the beating heart of the universe and you had this beautiful spark in your eyes,  _ “…choked.”

The waitress returned with Jon’s coffee just then, and Jon stirred in his sugar, frowning.

“Well, I can’t say that isn’t disappointing. I'm sorry, Martin, I let you down.”

“What?  _ No _ , don’t be sorry.  _ I’m _ the one who’s a screw up.”

“You’re not a screw up, Martin, and I’m your teacher. If I failed to  _ teach _ you, that’s on me.”

“I think I just don’t have the head for maths, you know?” Jon  _ couldn’t  _ blame himself for it. Martin wouldn’t allow it. He took a deep breath. “Which is why I think you should drop me as a client.”

Jon’s eyes flew wide open, but Martin pressed on, “You know, I’m thinking of just dropping the course entirely. Like, I’m an English major, you know? What do I need with a precalc and trig course, yeah?”

“Plenty of things,” Jon said, then he narrowed his eyes. “You can’t drop the course  _ now _ . It’s the middle of term. You’ll be behind on your prerequisites.”

“Well, yeah, but—”

“Martin,” Jon said, weighty, and Martin swallowed it all back down. “I know the test results are disappointing, but you can’t just  _ give up _ . We can figure something else out. Maybe increase our lesson times or their frequencies.”

Oh, Christ,  _ more time  _ with Jon? Martin would just end up failing  _ all _ his courses at that point.

“I can’t afford it,” he said, quickly.

"What?"

“Yeah, it’s just, uh, I’ve been looking over my budget, and I don’t think I can afford to pay you. Especially if we have to, um, meet more often.” It wasn’t even a lie. Martin had been struggling to make his tuition payments for ages. But that just made Martin’s face burn that much hotter. “I’m sorry.”

“Martin.”

And when Martin wouldn’t meet his eyes, Jon touched his wrist. Martin snapped his head up, and Jon was smiling, gently.

“It’s okay. I can waive my fees until your grade is back on track.”

“Jon—”

Jon squeezed his wrist, shutting Martin right up.

“You are frighteningly intelligent, Martin, I  _ know  _ you are, but you just can’t seem to see yourself that way. Let me help. I  _ want  _ to help you.”

Jon’s eyes were burning, the kind of intensity he only ever got when he was neck deep in his lectures. But there were no pretences here. All of Jon’s attentions were  _ entirely  _ on Martin. On his reddening face, his pounding heart, and the swell of emotion that were fit to explode right out of his chest.

_ Jon. _

“I have feelings for you.”

Jon jumped back, hand pulling away and, still, it took Martin a moment to realise what he had done. When he did, his blood turned to ice.

Stupid, stupid, stupid,  _ stupid. _

“I’m  _ so _ sorry,” he said, lowering his hands into his lap. “You’re an  _ amazing _ teacher, but I just kept getting distracted, because I …”

“Because … you have …?”

Martin wanted to bury his face in his hands. He couldn’t have possibly handled this any worse. This is why he hadn’t wanted to  _ tell  _ Jon. Why was he such a  _ cock-up? _

The silence was broken only by the sound of the other patrons. Jon could have turned into a block of ice and Martin wouldn’t have even known. Finally, though, Jon said, quiet,

“I see how this might be a problem.”

That startled a laugh out of Martin. Yes, the problem was pretty clear, wasn't it?

Jon was staring down into his coffee, face a frozen mask of intense eyes and a slack jaw.

Was it really  _ so _ shocking? Honestly, Martin had thought he was being painfully obvious.

“In light of this new information,” Jon said, slow and careful, “it would probably be best for you to find a new tutor.”

And Martin knew that, Martin  _ knew  _ that, but it still hurt to hear. A lot. He couldn’t even bear to ask, softly,  _ Can we still be friends?  _ because only an idiot would look at the expression on Jon’s face and think that there was a chance.

Jon reached into his wallet and put a fiver on the table. Then, he collected his bags and slid out of the booth, and Martin’s hands bunched up the fabric of his trousers.

“Have a good day,” Jon said. “Good luck with your course.”

Martin could only nod.

There was a little tinkling of the café bell and Jon was gone. Alone in the booth, Martin lowered his face into his arms.

And there he went.

Martin only hoped they could catch a glance of each other every once in while in the humanities building.

“Here’s your receipt, sir.”

The waitress smiled, perhaps a bit more pitying than was strictly necessary. It’s not like they had been boyfriends or anything. Or even friends. Jon had only ever been his tutor.

Stinging with humiliation, Martin took the paper receipt. It was probably going to be a long time before he ever went to this café again.

He really liked the coffee, too.

Thankfully, Martin had oodles of other tests to study for to keep himself distracted well into the night. He was glad Tim was busy with friends, giving Martin the space he so desperately needed.

Rubbing his eyes, he leaned back in his chair, groaning. He  _ hated  _ economics. At least with classes like English and philosophy, you could bullshit your way through the answers if you were eloquent enough. Less easy to bullshit about comparing command and mixed economies in regard to ownership and  _ bull markets _ .

That was when his phone rang. Sighing with relief at the distraction, he didn't even look before he answered it.

“Hello?”

“ _ Martin? _ ”

Martin’s throat seized. Oh, the  _ one time  _ he doesn’t look at caller ID.

“Hey, Jon,” he managed, hoping his voice didn’t squeak as loudly over the phone. There was a staticky inhale through the receiver, then,

“ _ I wanted to apologise for how I ended our conversation today. I had so much I wanted to say, and it was just so overwhelming, and I didn’t want to— _ ”

“Hey, no, it’s fine." What could Jon  _ possibly  _ think he had done wrong? "I shouldn’t have— I didn’t mean to spring it on you like that. It’s not your problem.”

“ _ It  _ is  _ my problem. I mean, I want it to  _ be  _ my problem. I, uh, what I mean is— _ ” A frustrated growl. “ _ I didn’t want to say the wrong thing. _ ”

He’s never heard Jon this out of sorts before. He sounded almost …  _ flustered _ .

“What’s the right thing?”

Silence, and it dragged on long enough that Martin was convinced he himself had said the wrong thing, although he couldn’t begin to guess  _ what _ . And then, Jon said,

“ _ There’s a new Indonesian restaurant that’s opened near the old theatre place. _ ”

“Oh?"

“ _ Yes. Where the old Trinity bar used to be _ .”

“Oh, right. I think I know what you’re talking about. Been there about a month by this point, yeah?”

“ _Right._ _So_ ,” and here Jon’s voice took on an odd quality, “ _So, I’ve been looking for a reason to go there, ever since it opened, but since you were … you and I were … that is to say, it didn’t seem professional…”_

Martin didn’t say anything. He couldn’t speak even if he wanted to, heart thundering as hard as it was in his ears. He shouldn’t be getting his hopes up. That would mean— Was Jon actually—?

“ _ But now that you’re, uh, no longer my client, I was wondering if you’d like to go … together. Sometime _ .”

“Yes.”

Martin clapped a hand over his mouth. He had said that  _ far  _ too quickly, hadn’t he?

“I mean, yeah, that would be— It’s been  _ ages _ since I’ve had good nasi goreng.”

There was a breathless laugh over the receiver, and it sounded almost relieved.

“ _ Excellent. Does tomorrow evening work? 6 o’clock? _ ”

“That sounds perfect.”

“ _ Great! I’m, uh … I’m really looking forward to it. _ ”

“Same. Yes, I’m really, uh …” He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, I just want to make sure— This is a … you’re asking me on a—”

“ _ I’m asking you out on a date, yes. _ ”

Martin had to press a hand over his mouth, lest his smile consume his face.

“Great. That’s really great.”

Much as he wanted to sit here and keep talking, keep existing in the same world as Jon, the numbers on the digital clock glared up at him. His test was tomorrow morning. “I should, uh, probably get back to studying now. Sorry.”

“ _ Yes, of course. I’ll be sure to find a replacement tutor for you. _ ”

“Okay. Thank you. See you.”

“ _ See you _ .”

“Have a good night.”

“ _ You as well _ .”

"Okay."

" _ Yes. _ "

"Good night."

A laugh.

" _ Good night, Martin. _ "

Reluctantly, Martin hit the end call button. There would be plenty of time to talk with Jon tomorrow, after all. On their  _ date _ . A date that, if Martin understood correctly, Jon had been wanting to go on for the last  _ month.  _ He had to  _ tell  _ someone about this. Getting a grip, he sent a quick text to the group chat that read,

_ i think i just got a date :) _

What followed was a truly staggering number of exclamation points and heart emojis (Sasha) and a reminder on who was to be Martin’s best man (Tim). There was a lengthy debate in this regard, as Sasha said she had dibs on being best man because Martin still owed her a coffee, and Tim demanded that Martin and he go out for coffee right this instant.

Oh, should Martin look up the menu in advance? He didn't want to risk being so distracted that he failed to make his order in a timely fashion. What would Jon like? It was hard to say for certain his tastes, as he had consumed exclusively coffee and snacks during any of their study sessions. He hoped the man liked Japanese; there was this one place nearby that had the  _ best _ soba.

Oh, God, was there going to be a  _ next time?  _ Martin nearly had a heart attack at the thought. Please,  _ please  _ let there be a next time.

By the time he looked up the menu and daydreamed a bit more and had to break up the quite vicious group chat debate, he glanced at the clock.

1:31 AM.

His exam was at 8.

He had still yet to make even an iota of progress on his text.

His head dropped onto his book with a  _ thunk! _

_ Goddammit. _

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on tumblr [@athina-blaine](https://athina-blaine.tumblr.com/).


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